


Spat

by Cinerari



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinerari/pseuds/Cinerari
Summary: Yama has an argument with Harlock, a definitely real and serious argument.





	Spat

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic from my tumblr for the prompt "first huge fight."

The problem with Harlock-

No, _one_ of the problems with Harlock was his lack of communication skills. Other problems included lack of self-care and staring at my ass when I piloted the ship, but communication was the biggest. He talked when the situation called for it and daydreamed his way through any other conversations. Well, he said he paid attention, but sipping wine while staring off into space did not look like paying attention.

One of my problems, meanwhile, was that I had the tendencies of an angry drunk. “Harlock,” I growled through a slur as I lay on my back across his bed. My limbs splayed out in all directions as though I’d splattered against the fabric.

“Yes, Yama?” he answered, composed as ever. He’d downed twice as much wine as me, but he sat as easily as any sober person at his desk, glancing over reports.

“Talk to me about things!” I didn’t mean to yell. It just happened. Rolling over, I buried my face in the comforter.

“What sort of things?” I could tell by the tone of his voice he hadn’t looked up.

“Anything,” I whined.

He gave a short hum of thought, eye still locked on the electronic screen when I looked up. “If you’d like to discuss the current stability of our supplies with me, you’re more than welcome,” he said. 

Ripping a pillow from the top of the bed, I launched it his way. “I want to talk about normal things!” I screeched. The pillow bounced off the side of his desk, and he bothered a glance to watch it land.

“Such as?”

He wasn’t even trying. My whole body felt hot, vibrating with rage. I couldn’t even think. I was broiling mad. That stupid, apathetic attitude of his made him the most annoying person sometimes. Scrambling off the bed, I stormed over to him and finally let him have a piece of my mind.

“You make me so mad,” I growled. “So mad. I just- ugh. So mad.” It sounded better in my head.

Standing was too much work, so I lay down across his chair’s armrests and his lap. He pulled his arms to his chest and out of the way to make room for me. “You’re such a bastard,” I continued. My rant was weakened from the strain of the trip across the room. “I hate you so much. I don’t even want to talk to you anymore. I never want to talk to you again. You’re the worst.”

The armrests pressed into my chest and thighs, my head and arms dangling over the side of the chair. When my joints started to ache too much, I rolled over to my back and sat down in his lap instead. The armrest still pressed bruises into my back, but I could handle it. When I looked up, Harlock was fighting back a smile, still staring at those dumb reports.

I reached up and curled my fingers into the collar of his cape. “Pay attention to me,” I hissed. “I’m ignoring you.”

“You’re doing a valiant job,” he said, allowing the smile to ease across his lips. He looked so good when he smiled. If I wasn’t so mad, I would have kissed that smile right off his face.

But I was so mad. “Aren’t you upset that I’m ignoring you?” I demanded, shaking him by his collar.

He nodded, still not looking at me. “I’m very upset. Would I be forgiven if we talked about plants?”

Damn, I had been thinking all day about how cool Mimosa pudica were, but the crew always gave me weird looks when I brought up things like that. “We can’t talk about plants,” I huffed, just as disappointed as I was angry. “I’m mad at you. We’re having a fight.”

“Are we?” he asked, finally closing out the screen. He blinked as he looked my way.

“Yes! I’m mad at you and yelling!” I let go of his collar just to poke a finger into his chest. “We’re fighting.”

His brow furrowed. “I see. But what about…” He searched his mind for something, eye rolled up in thought. “What about flower hybrids?”

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” I gasped. There was nothing more fun than crossing flower species to make new colors and patterns.

Harlock nodded. “Yes, I love how they do that thing with alleles and colors.”

“Oh!” I smacked his chest a few times. “Let me tell you about the first time I crossed camellias.”

He broke out in another smile that warmed his eye. Maybe I would have kissed him, but this story was too important. “Well, I’m dying to know,” he said.


End file.
